


Revenge is a Dish

by colisahotnorthernmess



Category: Dexter (TV)
Genre: Biting, Cannibalism Play, M/M, Murder, Revenge, Seduction, Sexual Experimentation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-25 03:58:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16189607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colisahotnorthernmess/pseuds/colisahotnorthernmess
Summary: Dexter doesn't approve of Deb's dates messing her around - but, where most friends and relatives might go over to their homes, rough them up a bit, and then leave - our serial killer has a slightly different approach. He solves the problem permanently. And, in the process, samples a life like Debra's, to try and see what she sees in these unreliable men. Set during Season One.





	Revenge is a Dish

**Author's Note:**

> Old fic. Posted in 2008 to Livejournal.
> 
> Written for the 'Dexter finds out that sexuality is a lot more fluid than he thinks' prompt at 'lgbtfest' community fic fest.

"So, I hear you've been promoted to homicide - that's great news," he grinned, reaching over their seafood platter for a toothpick - ten varieties of steaming flavoursome fish, drizzled generously with lemon and lime. There was nothing quite like a chowdown after a murder or two, or _three_. Receiving her call, he'd had to put it off until later, but he'd be _back_ \- to his prey with a vengeance. So long as her new detective status came nowhere near him and his vigilante-style antics, he'd be able to finish his latest project to his own chilled, _relaxed_ timescale.

"Yeah," Deb replied, seasoning her food, "The best part? LaGuerta had to say the actual words... I thought her head would explode! And you had me the whole way - I appreciate that. That's why I'm celebrating with you." She clinked her glass of Spanish beer against his.

"Why, was Sean busy?" he chewed a forkful. Loco's Crab Shack served the most delicious rice and prawns.

"We aren't exactly together anymore," she mumbled, sucking her cutlery.

"Why?" Dexter glanced up from his dinner.

Then she dropped the sweet, meat-covered claw of a bombshell. "He's married," she said, "It was between me and his wife, and he dumped... me."

Just like after the last date, he so _hated_ seeing her like this.

"Don't worry about it," she sighed, elbows on the table, "Some things just aren't meant to be, I guess."  
  
She didn't know it yet, but what she was saying was, "Dexter, _please_ deanimate these pathetic human beings for me." And he, being the sort of brother every sibling dreamt of, would happily indulge. That girl was at least as beautiful as he, himself, had been in his teen days. His antithesis perhaps - a fair blonde-brunette compared with the blackness of his soul. Spoiled from birth, they had stifled each other with their own arguments and petty squabbles - not over pocket money or presents, but over the attention of their foster father. Harry had always favoured _him_ , from the beginning - but not because Debra was bad; she was too smart for her own good. Dexter simply strived to comprehend Harry. In a way, he was his greatest ever mystery.

Dabbing dripping jambalaya juice with the corner of a napkin, Dex told Deb the truth, "You know something? They sound like total jerks, Deb - you can do better." He couldn't wait for the meal to end. The anticipation had him on a knife edge. _Literally_. One thing he'd been taught though, as part of his code, was to always make _sure_. He followed the two Seans for a little while, in their daily lives. And then there he was - parked outside their quaint suburban houses, invited home for drinks - tequila slammers. They were _thrilled_. He should be more thrilled, _considering_ what he was about to do to them.  
  
Analysing his sister's feelings wouldn't be easy if he couldn't tap into her mind. So he saw only a single option here... He would have to set himself up as prey and be _preyed_ upon. In his field, it was always crucial to delve into evidence closer but, more importantly, try and see it all from someone _else's_ view. And through Debra's dispirited eyes, unaware of his disease, he did just that:

He imagined what _she'd_ be thinking as he crushed his emotionless lips into theirs, barging past their flapping, forked tongues to get the best part, and finding out that there _wasn't_ one - instead of stripping their clothes, he allowed them to take off their _own_ for a change - and, as an expert of anatomy, it wouldn't take him long to string them along sexually, to bring them to ecstasy and back down again, far quicker than the drug of the same name - hands often bloodied, but sometimes not, wrapped around their selfish sexual organs. A sample of something _extra_ for his slides. And he couldn't have cared less for the recipient's feelings. It was an _experiment_ for him. However, that didn't mean that he couldn't twist their urges around to satisfy his own; there was an overlap. He was as much a fan of power-play as anybody but, for him, he was only interested in the very _apex_ of such a roleplay. Why have a sub and dom, when you go whole-hog and completely pick off the weak? _This_ time, the trolley was wheeled into _his_ room.  
  
And _what_ , I hear you ask, would he have done had they _not_ returned his affections? Come _on!_ These guys were _chumps_ , and _he_ was offering them a cheap ride. _Guaranteed_ to take the bait. But then he had to wonder why he hadn't tried men this way before. He had no real feelings for _anyone;_ the rationale behind his relationships with _women_ was based on the fact that it was the 'norm.' When everything _else_ he ever did, _couldn't_ be further from.

People told him he had an attractive face. He was glad that people saw him that way because, as far as seduction went, he didn't have a Scooby-doo. It made his job (his _night_ one, that was) considerably easier. The two Seans were also handsome. His sister had the first half of natural selection to a tee. Their children, he smirked, would have been gorgeous. She had been right too - the TV-repair dude _had_ smelt of cheese-whizz - Dex had tasted it as he'd bit into his neck, severed his jugular vein like a toast on a fork dipping into a fondue. The workman was greasy too, as you might assume. His poor diet of spicy and fat-filled food produced tangy sweat from his pores and a taste which bled into his dry, hungry mouth.

Dexter didn't eat the men. He wasn't a cannibal. But, to him, it seemed a logical progression to _taste_ them in death as he had tasted them in life, with kisses and wanton sucks and bites. Perhaps he had a fetish.  
  
When it all became too much for them, he ended their crippling pain in an instant. He'd had what he'd wanted all along and, with a swift slice to their chests, he at least gave them the grace of snuffing it in style. Cutting them open at the front, he was saddened to see his bed-fellows had been _lying_ to him. They _hadn't_ given him their hearts; still behind the ribcage they were. Oh love, you fickle mistress! Slashing and chopping away, he created his own brand of passion - and, the romantics with their Romeos and Juliets, the French and the _petit mort_ \- they probably would have _agreed._

He chopped their dicks off last, and hoped Deb would've appreciated that. Pickled them in specimen jars. Before bunging the broken bodies into bin-bags, tossing them into the trash and then tidying up his _studio_ for another working day. He'd have a harder task of disposing their bits, as it appeared they'd been subject to some bizarre sexual ritual - which, really, they sort-of _had_. Dental records from bite-marks and shared bodily fluids would be on file, and were almost impossible to erase. But it was a learning curve and, _therefore_ , should be treated as such. Dexter now knew how enjoyable the company of men could be. All future potential suitors for Deb would forever be wary - married, single or gay - that she wasn't the only _Morgan_ living in this small, dysfunctional family.


End file.
